Becoming
by Emmeebee
Summary: She may have the oddest sense of personal style he's ever encountered, but she understands things that no Midgardian should. Pre-relationship. AU. Set (mostly) after Thor: Ragnarok.


Loki glowers as he peruses the primitive fabrics that pass for the latest style here on Midgard. After they fled the destruction of Ragnarok, Thor relocated their people here. As part of an agreement with the American Government, the Asgardian refugees purchased land in a state called Oklahoma in exchange for agreeing to make nice with the mortals and defend them in their time of need. They built a castle, enchanting it to float high above the desert.

The deal is understandable. If a powerful race approached them seeking a place on Asgard, they would have done the same at a minimum. Nevertheless, it rankles, especially since living on Midgard means having to acquire his own clothes; back on Asgard, they had people to do that for them.

"Who are you looking for?" a shop assistant asks as she pauses in the middle of hanging an armful of clothes back on the racks. Her voice is foreign and lilting – he doesn't know where she's from, just that it's not America.

"Myself," Loki replies, his voice curt and final.

It's embarrassing enough to have to do this without attracting witnesses. His reputation has improved since the mortals learned that he's cooperating with Thor and the other Avengers, but he has no interest in having pictures of him shopping plastered in the magazines.

The things mortals find amusing.

The woman hums thoughtfully. She must be dim-witted; most people would have taken the hint and left by now. "A worthy goal."

He finally glances up at her, a scowl of warning upon his face and a scathing retort poised on the tip of his tongue. A millennium of being held up against Thor and found wanting has left him with a lifelong aversion to being mocked.

But the words die in his mouth as his gaze settles on her. She is, without a doubt, the oddest mortal he has ever seen. With a corkscrew necklace, radish earrings, mismatched clothes, and a stick through her wispy blonde hair, she resembles a patchwork doll that has been assembled by someone with no eye for fashion. How she ended up working in a clothes shop with taste like that is anybody's guess; it's horrible, even by Midgardian standards.

The name badge on her chest reads _Luna_.

"'Myself,'" the woman called Luna repeats without any trace of guile, almost to herself. "Isn't that the same for all of us?"

In years to come, when he is standing before her on their wedding night, he will look back on this moment and tell her that it was when he knew. For now, however, his curiosity is vastly overshadowed by his desire to purchase what he needs and return to the castle. "They let you work here dressed like that?" he asks sardonically.

But Luna is unfazed; she doesn't even check her clothes for any stains or tears, the way he expects her to. "My godmother is the owner. She's the one who taught me how to sew."

"I see."

"Do you?" She tilts her head. "How insightful of you."

He frowns, confused by her response. Did she miss his amusement, or was that a return parry?

Turning, she starts to rifle through the shirts hanging on the racks. "She moved out here eighteen years ago after the war ended," she continues, "and when I heard reports of a floating castle, I decided to come to see it for myself so I could write about it for Daddy's newspaper."

"Then why are you working _here_?"

She shrugs. "I've never worked in a shop before. I thought it would be an interesting experience. Oh, look – here's a nice one."

The shirt she holds up is nice, surprisingly. It's also pale blue – as blue as a Frost Giant.

An icy feeling runs down his spine, and he barely contains a shiver. As far as Loki's aware, the mortals don't know about his true heritage. But this can't be a coincidence. "I don't wear blue."

"That's a shame; it suits you." Luna examines him closely, almost as if she can see through Odin's sorcery to glimpse his true appearance. "It doesn't have to be one or the other; a person can be more than one thing at once. A hero and a boy. Eccentric and grounded. At home and on the outside."

Loki can't figure her out. The woman's a jigsaw of contradictions as confusing as her dress; a clothes salesperson with no taste in clothes, a journalist who knows his name but has no interest in an interview, and a mortal who hints at things she should have no way of knowing. "What about you?"

"I'm whoever I want to be." When she smiles, it's bittersweet. "Most people don't like that, but it's alright. They don't know what they're missing out on."

No, they don't. People have a habit of disliking it when others go against the norms of their society. It's why he never fit in amongst Thor's friends back on the original Asgard, and it's why an unwelcome rush of understanding surges through him at her words.

He and his brother may be on the same side, united in purpose and reluctant love, but Thor has never fully understood the part of him that is a Frost Giant, that strains against the bounds of Asgardian society. For the first time, someone might.

It terrifies and intrigues him in equal measure.

"What time do you finish?" he asks.

Her eyebrows raise. "Being who I want to be? Hopefully never."

" _Working_."

"Oh." Luna glances over a clock on the wall. "At half-five."

That's twenty minutes away.

"Have a drink with me afterwards." Even though he doesn't phrase it as a question, anxiety stabs at him as soon as the words leave his mouth.

"In the floating castle?"

"Where else?" They would attract too much attention down here. Either they'd be kicked out the moment the bartender saw him, or some nosy bystander would convey details of their conversation to the press. Neither scenario would bode well for him.

"You'll be safe," he adds as she continues to hesitate.

A hint of steel enters her gaze, as sharp and unexpected as one of his daggers. "I know. I can defend myself."

More than one thing at once, indeed. He's impressed, and he gives in to the urge to smile. "I'm glad to hear it."

"You don't believe me."

Amused, he raises his hands. "I admit that it's odd to think of a mortal besting an Asgardian, but I, more than anyone, know that there are better ways to fight than with your fists. If you say you have a way of defending yourself, I believe you." He pauses. "So… does this mean you're coming?"

"I wasn't aware it was a request." There's a challenge in her voice. This time, it's clear she isn't just misunderstanding him; she's toying with him, purposefully throwing his words back at him.

This is going to be fun. "I wouldn't presume for it to be anything different."

"Well," Luna says, as light as a breeze, "it sounds like it would be an interesting experience."

That's what she said about working here in the first place.

Loki flashes her a broad grin. "I don't suppose you'd mind if I stay until you finish, then."

"Be my guest. Who knows? I might be able to convince you to wear the blue." Then, she pointedly hangs the shirt back up, and he once again gets the feeling that she's talking about something else entirely.

"Oh, I very much doubt that."

Luna shrugs. "Not today, at least."


End file.
